


Folie a duex

by FlameBlownWhiter, kirenamuln



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, Poor muffin, So worried about his friends, So worried about his past, Will someone please give Steve a hug, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1580702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameBlownWhiter/pseuds/FlameBlownWhiter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirenamuln/pseuds/kirenamuln
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In those dreams, no matter what he does, he can't save him.<br/>Steve hates dreaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Folie a duex

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of an art/fic exchange with [kirenamuln](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kirenamuln/pseuds/kirenamuln)
> 
> More of her art can be found [here](http://thatsgooddeduction.tumblr.com)

"Captain, can I get you anything?"

_Steve dove down._

_The water was cold, ice cold, but he was alive and he had to keep searching. He had lost his shield ages ago, it was too heavy in the rapids, too clunky to keep while diving under, over and over again. He should have attached it to his back, but he hadn’t had time. Bucky was still under._

_Steve sat straight up in bed ignoring Jarvis. His chest was covered in cold sweat and moved quickly with his rapid breaths. He looked around his dark room, but there was nothing there._

_Nothing there_

_Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something metallic. Turning towards it, Steve’s chest filled with hope, even with the churning water making a perfect visual impossible._

_Steve reached out, his leather glove becoming dry even as the current threatened to take him away. He reached out one final time, stretching his suit beyond its limit and grasped – uselessly –_

Steve tried to calm his heart, but couldn't. The beat was pounding loud in his ears, made even more pronounced by the silence. He put his head between his hands and breathed.

"Sir, should I call Doctor Banner or Stark?"

"No, no Jarvis I'm fine." Steve was not fine, but he didn't need Jarvis waking Tony, Bruce, or, like that one very memorable time, Thor.

"Sir, I would recommend..."

Steve hiccuped, choking back something like a chuckle. "I said, I am fine Jarvis. Thank you."

When Jarvis didn't pipe up again Steve looked up and to the corner of his room – where The Shield sat waiting. It was still there, had been for months, gleaming even when in shadow.

He put his head back down, the blond fringe, wet from fear, fell into his eyes and he closed them tight – not to sleep – but desperate to forget.

Steve used to love dreaming. Before the war he would dream he was some sort of adventurer - like Flash Gordon or Buck Rogers. He and Bucky used to pretend to be famous heroes saving the citizens of the 25th century. He doesn't have those dream anymore...

Now his dreams are filled with horrifying things. Scenes from battlefields, of red skulls and un-killable enemies. Steve dreams of helicarriers that kill everyone he loves, American flags on fire, of Steve himself wearing a Hydra uniform; but for months all his dreams has had one common factor: Bucky.

Most of the time it's Bucky glaring at him from the other end of the gun. Saying that Steve isn't his friend, just another mission, just another... but those aren't the worst dreams. The ones like tonight’s are the ones that keep him awake for a week at a time. In these dreams he doesn't just let Bucky die - he dives after him into the cold frozen river below, endlessly searching for him.

In those dreams, no matter what he does, he can't save him.

Steve hates dreaming.


End file.
